Made for Each Other
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #90 Jim Kirk's son, Sam, has settled into a satisfying career and is nearing thirty years of age when a visit to the Dreamcatcher Boys' Ranch changes his life.
1. Swagger

Chapter 1: Swagger

The bright horns of Tijuana Brass cut into his dream, and Sam Kirk rolled out of bed half asleep. The computer sensed his rising and toned down Herb Alpert's classic band as he staggered toward the bathroom. After showering, he smoothed on fresh beard repressor and slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans. Then he went into his little kitchen and ordered bacon and eggs from the tabletop replicator. Fully awake now, he ate quickly, one eye on the little viewscreen by his plate as he caught up on the latest news. Then it was time to go.

Sam slid his dirty plate into the dishwasher, grabbed his coat, and headed downstairs. Outside his apartment building, he glanced skyward and frowned at the sprinkling of stars. Nightfall, and a brisk lake wind tousled his auburn hair as he hurried to the Goose Island transit tube. Another five minutes, and he was checking in at Downtown Main, where he had worked since moving to Chicago six years ago.

In the locker room, he quickly shed his civilian clothes for the trim blue uniform of a police officer. Then he rushed off to receive the daily report from the watch commander. His pulse quickened as he slipped into the chair his partner had saved for him.

Clayton Duval's grin flashed brilliantly against his dark African skin. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't you?"

Sam shrugged. He always cut it close, and they both knew it. The pressure made for a little added excitement. Sometimes Clay even called him "reckless", and though the word never appeared in Clay's written reports, it annoyed Sam. He did not like thinking of himself as a thrill-seeker, even if it might be true. It made him sound too much like his father.

One thing for sure—he would never do anything to jeopardize his position on the force. He loved policing this old city in the dark of night. Each shift held a promise of adventure, and today was no different as he settled behind the controls of the air car he shared with Clay. It was a good vehicle, the very latest patrol model, complete with remote stun capability and blast shielding. Of course, the majority of calls involved domestic disputes, delinquency, and petty crime. But they had also battled their share of off-world smugglers, along with an occasional murder.

Tonight the shift went smoothly, and back at the station, Sam told Clay goodbye and logged out for two weeks of vacation. He wore his uniform home—he would need it where he was going—and stopped at his favorite tavern for some liquid refreshment. It was a warm, friendly place, all but deserted now that morning was coming on. As he sat drinking at the polished wood bar, a sinuous blonde came out of the shadows and settled into the seat beside him.

"Hey Sam," Flo purred seductively, "you off-duty?"

As he turned to flirt with her, he glimpsed his reflection in a mirror behind the bar and for an instant he thought he saw his father. His charming smile faded.

"Sam," repeated his lady friend—one of many. It was uncanny, the way he attracted them. "Sam, when are you going to settle down and make some woman a good husband? How old are you now? Thirty?"

"Near enough." Sam swallowed the last bracing swig of Scotch…one shot…a strict limit since his first and only drunk at age sixteen. He didn't like being out of control, but there was no denying that he was his father's son. The craving for adventure, the love of alcoholic beverages. And women—oh yes, he had a weakness for the ladies that often landed him in the confessional. But he had seen how Dad hurt his mother and his sister. He knew firsthand the pain of his father's desertion, and feared that someday _he_ might be capable of turning his back on a wife, or even a child. That he might end up just like his old man _._

Staring at his empty glass, he said, "I'll never marry." Then, stirred by Flo's nearness, he smiled at her, his brown eyes twinkling roguishly. "I'm saving myself for the priesthood."

She laughed and tried to push him off the stool, but a kiss subdued her and they left the bar together.

oooo

Sam arrived at the Dreamcatcher Ranch on career day, and his uniform created quite a stir with the resident boys. Soon after his presentation, his sister Tru showed up, her reddish-blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail. He gave her a hearty hug and she returned it, apologizing for her lateness. She had been off in a distant meadow sketching wildflowers with the young lady at her side, and had lost track of the time. The two of them looked flushed and healthy from their outdoor expedition.

Tru introduced her companion. "Jenny, I'd like you to meet my brother Sam. Sam, this is Jenny Flynn, a niece of Father O'Day." Her voice dropped out of respect for Jenny's recent loss. "She came from Ireland to nurse Father when his health was failing. Now she's working around the place for us."

 _Father O'Day's niece._ Intrigued, Sam studied her. She seemed quite young, hardly more than twenty, with jet-black hair and freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her rosy cheeks dimpled as she offered him a polite smile, but the look in her green eye was decidedly cool.

Sam wondered why as he said, "Glad to meet you, Miss Flynn. It's too bad about your uncle. Father O'Day was a fine priest…and a good friend of mine."

"Sure, and everyone loved him," Jenny replied in a sweet brogue while staring at a button on Sam's uniform.

Tru said, "A priest comes in from Weaverville on Sunday to hear confessions and offer Mass in our chapel. But it's just not the same…"

"No," Sam agreed, "it wouldn't be." He turned his attention back on Jenny, and though he had a winning smile ready, her eyes remained elsewhere.

oooo

As soon as Jenny managed a minute alone with Tru, she could not help but ask, "Your brother—how long did ya say he'll be stayin'?"

"He has two weeks of vacation," Tru replied, "but I'm sure Mom will want him home part of that time." Mistaking Jenny's question for a spark of romantic interest, she winked. "Handsome devil, isn't he?"

Jenny huffed but held her tongue. It wouldn't do to run down her employer's brother. Tru had no way of knowing how Jenny felt about cops, or the bitter reason for it. Only Father O'Day had known—her kindly Uncle Phineas. For that very reason, he had paid her way from Dublin and kept her at his side until the end, even willing her his bit of money so she would not have to go back. For sure, she did not like Sam or any of his kind. She would be glad when he headed back to his beat and quit disturbing the hard-won peace she had found here in the wilds of California.

oooo

Some things never changed at Dreamcatcher—the rich springtime pastures, the clouds of apple blossoms, the young vegetables in the carefully tended garden. But time had its effect on people. Jamie, his wife Anika, and Lame Wolf were all approaching middle age, and Tru was not far behind. Two of their children were already grown. Even the younger ones were in their teens, and no longer hung on their Uncle Sam when he came visiting.

The horses were different, too. Fresh from a hearty breakfast, Sam went out into the dewy morning to look over the little herd. Tru accompanied him, and as they came to the rail fence that enclosed the nearest pasture, he looked back at the residence and glimpsed Jenny Flynn peeking out a window.

"I thought she didn't want to come," he told Tru.

"That's what she said," Tru insisted. "Maybe she's shy."

 _Shy?_ Sam turned his attention to the horses. He was glad his sister had come along. No one but Tru or Lame Wolf could possibly understand this bittersweet feeling coming over him, this love-hate relationship with horseflesh that had its roots deep in their childhood on the Kirk ranch.

His eyes singled out a sturdy yearling colt with the gray and white markings of an Appaloosa.

"That's War Paint," Tru said, "out of Lame Wolf's stallion, Warrior."

Sam felt his jaw clenching as old memories stirred. _The grandson of War Cloud, Dad's prize stallion—here it stands, right in front of us, while Dad is…_

Tru sighed loudly and touched his shoulder. "It's his loss, Sam. _He's_ the one missing out."

Staring at the horse, Sam nodded. "Yeah." That was the only way to deal with the situation. Think of _his_ loss. Out there, chasing some damned Nexus fantasy while his grandchildren were getting ready to have children of their own...

Snapping out of his mood, Sam chose a plain brown mare with mustang blood, and they went riding.

 _Show off,_ fumed Jenny as she watched Tru's brother from a window in the kitchen, where she was helping Anika and the cook clean up after breakfast. Lord knows, she always tried to be useful, finding many small ways to earn her salary. She even helped with the horses, loved each and every one, and she did not like seeing them ridden at breakneck speed, the way that cop was doing just now, galloping wildly all over the pasture.

"Will ya look at that!" she declared.

Anika came to the window and actually smiled at the reckless riding. "You can tell Sam grew up on a horse."

"In Chicago?"

"No," Anika said quietly, "on a ranch in Idaho." She went back to her work, strangely silent.

Later, Jenny was alone in the kitchen when Sam burst in, smelling of horse sweat, and stepped into the industrial refrigerator as if it belonged to him. Swiping an apple, he came up from behind and crunched away, watching her mix a great bowl of sautéed onions, black olives, and grated cheese.

"Enchiladas?" he guessed with all the eagerness of a hungry boy.

"And what else _would_ it be," Jenny answered tartly, not intending to look at him, but finding her eyes drawn to his roguish smile. Pushing a lock of dark hair off her forehead, she resolutely turned back to the bowl. "Special ordered by Tru herself—enchiladas like your mither makes." And she thought, _If it's your mither's food you're wantin', why not take yourself home to her!_

A warm hand touched her shoulder and Jenny froze, her heart pounding with a sudden, reflexive fear. Lord help her, it was just the two of them in this great big kitchen.

All but trembling, she snapped, "Let go of me!"

His hand left her. In a soft, baffled tone he said, "I'm sorry…I only meant to…to thank you."

Jenny swung around and glared at him, standing so handsome with his strong, solid build. Though he was no longer wearing a uniform, in her mind's eye she could still see it, and there was no holding back the angry rush of words. "I don't have much likin' for cops, if it's alright with you. The uniform, that's what does it. It changes people, and not for the better. It gives them a feelin' of power, and the next thing ya know, you're startin' to swagger and throw your weight around. Oh, you think you're a _big_ man—a _big city cop._ Well, and I'll tell ya what a _real_ man is, and it's not a bully. A real man is gentle and strong and good. A real man's not afraid to get down on his knees before his God…and…and…" To her everlasting horror, she broke into tears and fled out the service door.

oooo

The enchiladas were a big hit with the boys, and Sam ate his share with plenty of Spanish rice, _frijoles_ , and green bean salad. Jenny sat at a different table and kept her attention on her plate, never catching the wary glances Sam occasionally sent her way. The girl was a complete mystery to him, sitting there, slim and pretty in her Dreamcatcher staff shirt. What had he done to incur her wrath? For heaven's sake, he had only touched her—more or less platonically. Most of the women he knew would have welcomed it, and a helluva lot more.

After dinner, the boys headed outside for some baseball and Sam decided to join them, passing Jenny along the way. Though he flashed her his most winning smile, her green eyes scorned him. Sam stopped short, frowning in puzzlement, before moving on.

oooo

With her chores done, Jenny went out on the front porch and sat beside Tru and her husband, Lame Wolf. The Vulcan-looking Jamie and his human wife Anika were over at the sports field supervising the youngsters. From her seat, Jenny had a clear view of the baseball game. As the western sky reddened, bats cracked loudly and the boys jumped from benches to cheer their teams on. It irked her to see Sam take a turn at bat, as if he were just another one of the kids. And all the while, she kept waiting for Tru to mention her tirade in the kitchen, for surely Sam had gone running to her.

Lame Wolf left them and went over to the barn. He was barely out of sight before Tru leaned toward Jenny and said, "Sam's awfully good with the boys, isn't he?"

 _So this was it._ Jenny felt herself reddening. "I don't care what he said to you, I won't apologize—even if it means…"

Tru twisted in her chair and gaped at Jenny. "Apologize? What in the world are you talking about?"

Jenny squirmed. Now she had gone and done it, with her outspoken ways. Would she never learn to hold her tongue? "Ya mean…he…your brother…he didn't tell ya?"

"Tell me what?"

Mortified, Jenny turned her face to the setting sun. "Nothin'. It's really nothin' atall." Quickly excusing herself for the evening, she trotted off to the little priest's cottage that now served as her housing. Oh, how she wished Phineas was still with her, but living here by the chapel made him seem a bit closer, as near as the Good Shepherd, for whom the chapel was named.

oooo

At Sunday morning breakfast, Jenny boldly sat across from Sam, and her cold disapproving glances made the French toast and sausage sour in his stomach. She did not have to say a word, for he already knew what she was thinking. _More special orders—just look at the way Tru babies him._

Turning to his sister, he said under his breath, "Tru, really, you don't have to make _all_ my favorite foods."

Right there in front of Jenny, Tru caught him by the neck and kissed his cheek, leaving a lipstick smear. "You want to take away my fun?" She laughed. "Sam, I don't see you that often."

Jenny's fiery gaze bored into him, and her voice was as smooth as silk. " _This_ week, it'll be barbecued chicken, if the weather holds. And potato salad—the kind ya like best, with wee little bits o' dill pickle. Isn't that so, Tru?"

No doubt sensing the tension, Tru gave them both a searching look.

Sam was glad it was Sunday, for he needed some priestly guidance. There had never been a woman he couldn't charm, one way or the other. This Jenny Flynn made him feel helpless and perplexed. Somehow, they had started out on the wrong foot. She had mistaken him for a spoiled bully and wouldn't let him forget it.

As the time for Mass drew near, he slipped into the chapel to await the priest's arrival. No sooner had he genuflected and knelt in a back pew, than an angelic young woman entered the sanctuary. Distracted from his prayers, Sam watched her dress sway as she placed fresh flowers on the altar and reverently set out the sacred vessels for Mass. _Hard to believe that sweet vision was Jenny!_ So she was taking care of her uncle's church now, and judging by the contentment on her face, she enjoyed it.

Jenny finished her task and came walking down the aisle. She was passing by Sam when she noticed him. Her gait faltered and the angelic spell broke. Openly scowling at him, she rushed on by, leaving a cool, fragrant wake behind her.

Sam was first in line at the confessional. Back home he had slipped with Flo, letting his hormones get the best of him, yet again. It was a decidedly awkward moment to bring up his problem with Jenny. But he needed to confide in someone _._

After hearing the story, the priest said, "It seems clear enough. A nice, decent girl who doesn't like policemen...so I suggest you stay out of her way." It felt like a slap, and no wonder, considering what Sam had just confessed.

"But Father," Sam argued, "I…I'm trying to be nice to her, that's all. She's so different from the other women I've known. And I just want to know her better!" The wrenching force of the admission surprised even him.

The priest took a moment to think it over. "So that's how it is. Well then, if your intentions are honorable, be patient for once in your life. Maybe, in time, she'll come to see your finer qualities."

Sam's heart raced as he leaned closer. "But Father, I've only got a few days _."_

The priest gave him absolution and a blessing, but when it came to Jenny Flynn, Sam was on his own.

oooo

Jenny held off entering the chapel until Mass began. Sam had stolen her customary place beside Tru, but there was still a spot next to him, and knowing Tru, she would surely invite Jenny to sit there. The members of the staff always kept toward the rear of the chapel, where they could keep track of the boys. But there remained a couple of vacant pews farther back, and the priest was at the altar when Jenny slipped into one of them. She did not want to sit any place where Sam could set his devilish eyes on her. Hard to believe, him being Catholic; she'd had no idea. Of course, Tru was Catholic, so it made sense that her brother might be, too. But a lot of cradle Catholics stopped practicing the faith when they grew up and left home. She had even seen it happen in her own family, back in Ireland. All during Mass, her attention kept straying to the wavy hair on Sam's bowed head. Seeing him praying so devoutly, Jenny was reminded of her judgmental words in the kitchen. _"A real man's not afraid to get down on his knees before his God…"_ Feeling embarrassed and defensive, she mentally countered, _Who's to say this isn't just an act,_ _getting in good with his sister?_

But Sam had been alone in the chapel before Mass.

Back and forth, Jenny kept arguing with herself, getting nowhere. As they lined up for Communion, she tried to calm her turbulent emotions, but even at that holy moment, she could not get Sam off her mind. Catholic or not, he was still a cop _._

oooo

Early next morning, Jenny set to work in the flowerbed that ran the length of the porch. As she was weeding the petunias, she heard footsteps and glanced up, only to find Sam sitting there on the porch, bigger than life, his shoes propped on an empty chair. He didn't seem to notice her down among the flowers.

Glowering up at him, she wiped a dirty streak across her forehead and stood. "Sure, and ya _do_ make yourself at home, don't ya?"

Sam gave a start and quickly took his feet down. Before he could say anything to her, the front door opened.

Tru came out with a cup of coffee and drew a deep breath of spring air. Looking at the two of them, she said, "Jenny, the boys can do that, later; you've been working too hard. Tell you what. This morning, I'll be busy teaching art…so why don't the two of you ride up to that high meadow we found the other day. You know the one, Jenny…where I was sketching the wildflowers? Show it to Sam and take a picnic lunch."

Every inch of Jenny rebelled at the idea. It was just like Tru, sending them off to settle the trouble between them. Well, Jenny had no intention of going anywhere with Sam the cop. She was opening her mouth to protest when she got an interesting idea of her own. So, it was a tour Sam needed. Well, why not? She'd take him on a fine trip, alright.

Turning to Sam, she forced a smile that showed her dimples nicely. "Oh yes, a picnic—'twould be just lovely."

Sam had his mustang saddled by the time Jenny cleaned up and came into the barn with the lunch Tru prepared for them.

Jenny tossed the packet of food into his hands. "See if ya can squeeze that into a saddlebag. Lord, the way she feeds ya, you'll be gettin' thick around the middle, bustin' outa your pretty little uniform." She turned her baleful gaze on the mustang. "You're ridin' _that_ skittish beast?"

It seemed that Sam was determined to steer clear of argument and make the most of their morning together. With an easygoing smile he said, "Don't worry, Jenny…I _like_ spirit." He ignored her hard look and added, "Just tell me which horse you want, and I'll…"

Briskly passing him by, she strode to a stall, bridled a little brown Appaloosa, and saddled it herself. Without a word, she mounted and cantered off toward the hills.

Jenny kept the lead, coldly cutting off Sam's every attempt at conversation as the horses walked an open forest trail. There were two ways up to the meadow, and before long she would have to choose between them. It would have felt good just riding under the warm cloudless sky, if he weren't along, filling her head with troubling thoughts.

The ground was rising quickly, and it came time to make her choice. Looking around, Jenny drew back on the reins and Sam pulled up beside her.

The sun sparked red highlights in his tousled hair as he gave that devilish smile of his. "What's the matter, Jenny? Are you lost?"

 _That settled it._ Wheeling her horse to the right, Jenny dug in her heels. The sure-footed Appaloosa exploded up the mountainside. Just over the crest, she slowed onto a narrow game trail that skirted a deep ravine. The treacherous path seemed better suited for a mule as it snaked back and forth, rising and falling precipitously. Behind her, loose stones clattered and Sam's horse snorted in fear.

Jenny recalled Tru's recent warning as she glanced back at him. _Never take the right-hand trail, it's much too dangerous._ Sam was coming along steadily, his face grim with concentration as he fought to control his mount. _So you're not smilin' now,_ she thought with some satisfaction, but an undercurrent of worry threatened to spoil it. _Why should she fret? Big city cop, expert horseman…_

She could not resist mocking him. "What's the matter, Sam? Are ya scared?"

He flashed her a sickly smile, and she urged her horse onward. Two steps, three…and there was a sliding sound behind her, the crack of underbrush, a mustang's scream. With a sick feeling, Jenny stopped and turned around in the saddle. Sam and his horse were gone. The damp trail showed scrape marks leading down into the ravine.

Panicking, she hollered, "Sam!"

From somewhere below she heard a horse struggling. Then Sam's weak voice came to her. "Down here..."

With not an inch to spare, Jenny dismounted and peered over the edge. Sam lay at the base of the ravine. She could just make out his face, and the bright red blood on it made her heart seize. "Don't try and move!" she warned. "I'm callin' for help on my wrist phone!"

That done, she shouted, "An emergency team is comin'! You okay, Sam?"

"My head…"

"Your sister will be hoppin' mad," she said, and confessed, "'Twas the _other_ trail she meant for me to take—the good safe one." The day had turned so deathly quiet that Jenny could hear the pounding of her heart. "Sam…? Sam, are ya still with me?"

At last he spoke. "Tru knows what I'm like—always out for adventure. I just wouldn't listen to you, would I?"

Confused, Jenny stared down at him. "What do ya mean? It was _my_ idea to…" Suddenly she realized that he meant to shift the blame to himself. "Oh, no ya don't. Sam, I…"

The hum of a transporter beam silenced her.

oooo

Sam's bleeding was quickly staunched at the regional hospital, where Tru hurried to his side. Though the fall had banged him up, no bones were broken. That very day, he limped back into the Dreamcatcher residence, anxious to hear how the mustang was faring. And he was more than a little worried about Jenny, too.

Anika, who was a licensed veterinarian, met them as they came in. "Other than a few stone gashes, the horse is fine. I'd say you're both lucky to be alive."

"Isn't _that_ the truth," Tru said with feeling. She escorted her brother to his room, where she made sure he followed doctor's orders and lay down.

Sam had no intention of objecting. The first dose of endorphin stimulator was wearing off, and every inch of his body hurt.

Tru hovered over him like the proverbial mother hen, making sure he was settled in comfortably. "I'll bring you a nice cold drink. Can you eat something?"

He shook his head carefully. "No, thanks."

"Are you sure? A little soup, maybe?"

Just now, Sam had no appetite. There was only one thing on his mind. "Where's Jenny?"

Tru's shoulders slumped, and she sat down beside him on the bed. "What good is she, if we can't depend on her? It might have been one of our boys out there, instead of you. But I hate to let her go…"

Sam started to rear up, but a sharp stab in his back soon returned him to his pillow. "But Tru…didn't she tell you? Taking that trail was my idea."

Tru's loving eyes searched him and she smiled sadly. "Sam, you're a rotten liar."

As usual, his big sister saw right through him, but Sam refused to give up. "Alright then, but I had it coming."

Tru sighed. "Do you think I'm blind? This past year, Jenny's let slip enough comments about 'cops'. I'd hoped that meeting you would help her get over her prejudice. Guess I was wrong."

Sam thought back to those painful minutes in the ravine after he had fallen. Surely he had not imagined the deep note of concern in Jenny's voice, calling down to him. _You okay, Sam? Sam, are ya still with me?_

His heart warmed at the memory. "Sis, something happened up there…"

"It certainly did," Tru remarked, "and she's going to answer for it."

oooo

Jenny was under strict orders to stay away from Sam until the staff decided her fate, and for now that was just fine with her. Every time she thought back to his fall, her emotions tumbled right along with him. Thank the Lord he wasn't hurt badly…and it was awfully kind, him offering to take the blame—not the sort of thing she would ever have expected from a cop. Maybe, just maybe, Sam _was_ different. And here she was, about to be sent away in disgrace. Wouldn't you know it? Not that she could argue with such a verdict, for it was a sin she committed up on that mountain, a dark and terrible sin. Sam could have died.

As she went about her chores, the shame worked on her until she could bear it no longer. Seeking out Tru, she said, "This staff meetin' that you're havin', with the whole bunch of ya altogether…well, I'll save ya the trouble." Though she held her head proudly, she was trembling inside. "No need to worry about firin' me. I'll be leavin' soon enough, on my own—if the nuns will have me."

Tru's eyes opened wide. "Nuns?"

"I've decided to join the Daughters of St. Joseph, like my cousin Kate. They look after priests, and the money Uncle Phineas gave me will make a fittin' dowry."

oooo

It seemed to Sam that Jenny had gone back to avoiding him. Now that he was getting around again, he kept trying to steal a moment alone with her, but each time she slipped away. He could hardly believe she was going to enter a convent! Somehow that hot temper and those alluring dimples did not fit his image of a nun. He had never met anyone quite like Jenny Flynn, and it pained him to think of losing her.

Between Sam's injury and a run of foul weather, the promised barbecue was postponed until the day of his departure. By noon, the clouds broke up. School let out, and the boys ran free in the sunshine while Jamie and Lame Wolf readied the barbecue pit near the barn. Sam helped and before long, clouds of smoke carried the mouthwatering aroma of grilling chicken. Though he kept watching for Jenny, she never stepped foot out of the kitchen.

When the chicken was cooked to perfection, they all went indoors to eat. Once again, Sam found himself at a different table than Jenny, seated in such a way that he could not even look at her. Knowing that he might never see her again made the potato salad stick in his throat. He pictured her helping prepare it, bits of dill pickle and all. Did she still distrust him because he worked in law enforcement? Was that why she was hiding herself…and heading off to a convent without even saying goodbye?

Desperate to know, Sam got up the minute dinner was over and followed Jenny right into the kitchen. She turned and when she saw him standing there, her whole face went rosy.

"I'll be leaving in an hour," he said. "Can you come outside? We need to talk."

Her eyes skittered away nervously and she busied herself with some dirty dishes. "I've got my duties…and…and I'm not supposed to associate with ya."

So that explained it. The staff was trying to keep them apart. "Never mind that," Sam said, and assured her, "I'll clear it with Tru. Come on."

Her hands went still. Without looking at him, she said, "If it's an apology you're wantin'…I'm sorry…dreadful sorry for what I did."

"Apology accepted, but that's not why I'm here." With all his heart, he said, "Jenny, _please…"_

Slowly she undid her work apron and accompanied him out the service door. Sam's pulse raced as they walked side by side to the apple orchard. The air was fragrant with blossoms. At each stirring of the breeze, pink and white petals drifted like snow.

Sam stopped and gently plucked a petal from Jenny's dark hair. Her gaze settled on the ground, her full mouth trembling with some unnamed emotion.

He had to ask her, "Do you hate me?"

She slowly shook her head from side to side.

Encouraged, he said tenderly, "Is it true what I hear…about you going with the nuns?" She nodded and Sam felt a deep inner stabbing. "I was hoping it wasn't true. I was hoping that maybe…just maybe…you might give this big city cop a little more time."

Her eyes rose to meet his, warm and green as shamrocks in the Irish sun. And she said, "Y'know, I've niver even heard your last name, and I've been wonderin'…"

Sam hesitated, as he often did before speaking his surname. "Kirk. Sam Kirk." He could tell by her expression that she wasn't connecting the name to his famous father, and was relieved.

"Tis a fine Scottish name," she said.

He ventured a smile and she shyly returned it. They walked along, quietly talking, until the golden hour was over.

Once again, Sam turned toward her, only this time he held out his hand. "I have to go now. Tell me you'll be here when I come back."

Studying his proffered hand, she said, "And just when might that be, Sam Kirk?"

"Next week…if you're still here."

Her cheeks dimpled. Then reaching out, she gently placed her hand in his.


	2. How Heroes Behave

**Chapter 2: How Heroes Behave**

"So, who's the lucky girl?"

Deep in the Chicago night, Sam piloted the patrol car, his eyes hard on the neighborhood instead of his grinning partner. Deadpan, he said, "What girl?"

Clay chuckled. "Oh, come on…you're not wasting all that money every week just to hang out with the kids at Dreamcatcher. You've got some _action_ going on."

A sudden wave of anger caught Sam by surprise. Jerking the wheel, he changed air lanes and headed south on Ashland Avenue. They passed over the Chicago River, sparkling in the moonlight. As the old Union Stockyards came into sight, Sam reminded himself that when it came to women, Clay had good reason to suspect loose behavior. But Jenny wasn't that sort of girl.

Suddenly Clay said, "Wait a minute…don't tell me. This one's really gotten to you!"

With a fresh surge of irritation, Sam snapped, "Drop it!"

The fact was, Jenny _had_ "gotten" to him, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. Long ago, he had vowed never to marry anyone, yet the thought of Jenny entering a convent was unbearable. At least for now, that threat was on hold and her position at Dreamcatcher would continue on a probationary status. The staff had reconsidered Jenny's fate at the review, but Sam wondered what some other group would have decided—people whose lives were not bound by interlinking family ties that could be traced back to the old starship _Enterprise_. Jenny had no idea of the history that lay behind the staff's decision. There was a lot Sam had not told her.

oooo

Each week, Jenny dreamed the hours away as she eagerly awaited Sam's arrival. In the beginning, she had been wrong about him. She had allowed the past to color her feelings, but now she knew better. Not all cops threw their weight around. Why, Sam was as thoughtful and kind a fellow as she had ever known. Sure, and he _was_ a handsome devil, too! They had made plans for tomorrow, the first of two wonderful days together. She wanted to spend every free moment with him, exploring the countryside on foot and on horseback, enjoying the fine June weather.

As Jenny finished up her last round of cleaning, Tru invited her into the adjoining quarters where she lived with Lame Wolf and the last of their three children. It was a cozy place, combining bright Native American décor with the watercolor paintings for which Tru was famous.

They were alone in the cottage, and Jenny felt a little uneasy as Tru offered her a chair and they sat opposite one another.

Tru cleared her throat and said, "You and Sam have been seeing a lot of each other."

Jenny could not stop herself from blushing. "I like him pretty well now. Guess you're glad about that."

But Tru did not look very glad at all. In fact, she was actually frowning. "Don't get me wrong; Sam's a good enough man. He's my brother and I love him, but…"

"Good _enough_?" Jenny shot back. Her heart was jumping. "Tru, what are you sayin'?"

Tru sighed and settled back in her chair. "It must be clear to you by now, Jenny. Sam…well, he knows his way around women."

Jenny let out a nervous laugh. "Aye, he's a charmer, for certain."

Tru wasn't smiling. "It's hard for me to say this, Jenny, but…there's been some talk among the boys. With Sam coming here so much, and the two of you pairing off all the time…going into the woods together. Well, you see…"

Jenny saw, alright. The cold suspicion in Tru's eyes made her bolt to her feet. "Oh, so ya believe the little gossips! You're accusin' Sam and me of…of carryin' on, right here under your very nose! How can ya think such a thing?"

"Now Jenny," Tru said softly, but it was clear that she had made up her mind.

Cut to the quick, Jenny stalked out and slammed the door.

Early next morning, she was still stewing about it when Sam came. There on the porch she threw herself into his arms, not caring the least bit who saw them. Sam hugged her long and hard before heading out behind the barn, where the strawberries were growing thick. Despite everyone's dark suspicions, Sam had never even kissed her, and as they walked along holding hands, she could not help imagining how wondrous it would feel. But the memory of Tru's words made even a kiss seem dirty.

Coming to a stop, she said it outright. "Sam. Your sister told me that…that everyone is thinkin'…" A tear spilled down her cheek and Sam captured it with a fingertip.

"Thinking what, Jenny?"

"Oh, Sam. She said the boys are thinkin' terrible things about us…and I can tell she's thinkin' the same."

He had such a stricken look that she almost wished she had kept her mouth shut. But Sam seemed more ashamed than angry as he said, "I can't really blame her. Jenny, I…I've had a lot to confess, when it comes to women."

The admission came as no surprise. A man with Sam's charm would have been seriously tempted, but the past didn't matter now. All that mattered to Jenny was the fire in her heart…and Lord willing, in his.

Gathering her courage, she finally uttered the precious words aloud. "Sam Kirk, I love ya'"

His face transformed with such happiness that Jenny forgot to breathe. Then his arms went around her and he kissed her mouth tenderly before declaring his own love.

oooo

Jenny loved him! Jenny Flynn _loved_ him, and Sam felt like he was walking on air. Before the day was over, he came up with a plan to get them out from under the watchful gaze of his big sister. After making a preliminary call to Idaho, he found his angel tending to flowers in the chapel. She looked so sweet and pure that for a moment his resolve wavered. Did she really belong in a convent? What right had he to lure her away? What could he offer? The mere thought of marriage made his heart quake.

Then Jenny stepped down from the altar and saw him standing in the shadows. Her lovely face lit with delight and as she hurried toward him, the memory of their first kiss made Sam long for more. With an effort, he limited himself to an embrace. The intensity of his feelings made him glad they were here in the chapel, right under the Lord's eyes, instead of a more private place.

Sam drew her into a pew and they sat together. Her face was so trusting that he hesitated once again. _What right did he have?_ But they had already come too far. He did not have the strength to end it now, not with his very soul hungering for her.

"Jenny," he began, "I'm thinking it might be better…all things considered…if I help you find a new place to live. A place where we can get together without worrying about what anyone thinks."

Looking serious, she nodded. "Aye."

"My mother lives in Idaho, out in the country, all by herself. She could use some help around the place and would pay you a little salary, plus room and board."

Jenny seemed astonished at the idea. "Your _mither_? And she knows…'bout you and me?"

Sam smiled. "Yes, but don't worry. I've promised her I'll be a perfect gentleman and I've assured her that you're a lady. She can't wait to meet you."

Jenny's slim dark brows drew together as she considered the offer. "Out in Idaho, ya say? With your mither." Then her lips twitched and she began to smile. "Alright then, Sam. Sure, and I'll give it a try."

All that remained was to inform Tru of the decision. Anticipating a lecture, Sam went alone to see his sister. It was no use defending his relationship with Jenny, so he merely laid out the facts as plainly as any police report.

Tru actually seemed relieved that Jenny was leaving. "Yes, it might be the best thing for everyone concerned…but using Mom's house? Sam, really."

Sam stood stiff with embarrassment. "Tru, it's not going to be like that."

"Sure, Sam." She sighed and gave him a hug. "No hard feelings, okay?"

oooo

Jenny was amazed at how easily she settled into the big log house with Sam's mother. Mrs. Kirk—or Antonia, as she preferred to be called—gave her a warm welcome and patiently taught her the daily round of work, both inside and out, where a decrepit old saddle horse was stabled. Jenny's roomy upstairs bedroom offered a breathtaking view of the rugged Sawtooth Mountains. Down in the rustic living room were photos of Sam and Tru as fair-haired toddlers, and later at their first Holy Communion, with little hands folded in prayer. It was plain to see where Tru got her artistic talent, for Antonia created beautiful oil paintings in the attic loft and sold them at her own gallery in town. Despite her fame, Sam's mother was a good, down-to-earth woman, a solid Catholic unafraid to be seen praying her rosary or reading the Bible. On Sundays, they attended Mass together at the church where Uncle Phineas had served as pastor until he retired. It gave Jenny a homey, comfortable feeling to walk the same aisles as her beloved uncle. It made her happy, too, knowing that this was where Sam had grown up.

The first time he beamed in from Chicago, Jenny ran to him with a happy kiss. "I'm so glad I came here. Your mither is a darlin'. Wait till ya see what we've been cookin' up."

"Potato salad?" he guessed in a fair imitation of her brogue. "With wee bits o' dill pickle?"

Pretending to take offense, she tossed her dark hair. "Ah Sam, you're such a tease! 'Tis chicken and dumplins!"

All three of them sat down for a pleasant meal, and it was clear to Jenny how much Sam's mother enjoyed having him around. But Jenny could hardly wait to get Sam all to herself. After dinner, the two of them went for a long walk down a forest trail, holding hands while the sun set. His strong grip made her feel cherished and safe.

Enjoying his nearness, she said, "I didn't know your mither was Hispanic. Your skin's a lot lighter than hers, and so is Tru's." Sam was so quiet, that she kept on talking. "I'm wonderin' about your family name, Kirk. Was your father from Scotland?"

Sam's hand tightened over hers. "No—he was from Iowa."

"And what sort o' work did he do?" She naturally spoke of him in the past tense, for it seemed clear that he had died years ago.

Sam was slow to answer. "He was…a…a ship's captain. Later on, he raised horses here." Stopping, he turned toward her, his face solemn in the dusk. "Don't ever mention him to Mom. Alright?"

"Of course, Sam, I'll be careful. If your Da was anything like you, she must still be mournin'." Jenny knew she had touched a nerve, and decided to change the subject. "Up at the house—I saw a picture of Lame Wolf when he was just a teenager, and Jamie with him."

Sam nodded and walked on. "My parents took in Lame Wolf back before I was born. For a while, we were raised like brothers. Jamie was Lame Wolf's best friend." He pointed with his free hand. "Jamie grew up just over those hills—his dad and stepmother still live there."

"Vulcans?"

"Half Vulcan. But Jamie's mother was completely human, so he's nearly all human himself."

Jenny found it hard to believe. "Sure, and he doesn't look it!"

Stepping carefully under a moonlit sky, they arrived back at the Kirk ranch. As they approached the house, the old horse nickered a greeting from the corral.

Jenny paused to gaze upward. Taking in a deep breath of cool air, she said, "Ah, will ya just look at those stars tonight!"

Sam did not even take a glance, and Jenny remembered other times in California when he seemed indifferent to the beautiful night sky.

"What," she quipped, "don't ya like stars?"

"Sure," he muttered darkly, "who wouldn't?"

Astonished, Jenny took both his hands and tried to make out his expression. "Sam Kirk, what's gotten into ya? Are ya pullin' me leg?"

He did not answer a word.

"Well!" She said, mystified. But then he kissed her and she forgot all about it.

oooo

All summer long, Sam's free time flashed by, while the workweek passed much too slowly. He could barely keep his mind on each shift, and later rattled around his apartment feeling lost and lonely. Day and night, the thought of Jenny consumed him. He wanted her…he _needed_ her…right here at his side, always. Yet he could not bring himself to take that final, irrevocable step that would make Jenny Flynn his wife.

Each time Sam looked in the mirror, he saw his faithless father gazing back. It was the only place he ever saw him, for there was not a single photo of his dad in the apartment, or displayed in his mother's house, and even the old portrait was gone from its place of honor above her fireplace mantel. It was as if Jim Kirk had died. No, worse—it was as if he had never lived.

Meanwhile, Jenny was becoming ever more sensitive to Sam's moods. Time and time again she suspected that he was holding back secrets, but how could she complain when she had her own share of them? It seemed as if they had reached an impasse…kissing close, yet tiptoeing around the tender places instead of confiding in one another as sweethearts should.

One hot August morning, Jenny rose from bed determined to tell Sam the whole truth about herself. Nervously she helped fix breakfast, and they sat down to eat. Not long after the blessing, a sudden argument broke out between Sam and his mother. Lately, he had been after Antonia to "put down" the old horse, and growing more and more insistent. As her gentle Sam snapped at Antonia and stomped out of the house, Jenny could barely keep back her tears. _Oh Please Lord,_ she prayed, _don't let him start changin' on me now…_

Getting a hold on her emotions, she went outside and looked around. Sam stood at the paddock fence, glaring at the old spotted stallion as if he truly hated it. Did he intend to kill the horse himself?

With slow, quiet steps she walked up beside him. "Sam," her voice pleaded, "it's your mither's horse, isn't it? What difference does it make?" She watched the muscles in his jaw work. "Sam…Sam, you're scarin' me."

At that, most of the anger seemed to drain from him. Turning, he looked at her with remorse. "Sorry, Jenny. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Well, ya did, Sam." She wavered a moment, then forged on. "And it's high time I tell ya why." Suddenly, she had his full attention and her heart raced out of control. "I've…I've been meanin' to say this for a long while…so you'd know why I was so set against ya when we first met—you bein' a cop, and all." A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed hard. "It's…it's because of me Da…back in Ireland. He was a cop, too—and he niver let any of us kids forget it. Irreverent he was, Sam, and _mean_ …mean as the divil himself, after our mither died…and age hasn't mellowed him any. Uncle Phineas knew. Ya see, I was the youngest. Da meant me to stay and keep house for him, but Phineas helped me get outa there, bless his soul." Once more, the tears threatened. "So now ya know. And it may be wicked to say…but sometimes I wish _my_ Da was dead, instead o' yours."

Sam pulled her into his arms and nearly crushed the breath out of her. "Oh Jenny," he murmured, "poor, sweet Jenny."

In fact, Sam was struggling with himself. Now that Jenny had opened up, he felt driven to do the same, for only honesty would ease the bitterness that kept spilling from him. But outside the confessional, he had never shared the painful story of his father with anyone.

"Sam," she said, resting her head on his shoulder, "I don't want anythin' to come between us…anythin', Sam. Don't ya understand?"

Knowing what she expected, he drew back, distancing himself physically and emotionally. One step from true intimacy, that's how it had always been for Sam Kirk. Fearful to give his heart completely, fearful to make any promises. But as Jenny silently appealed to him, he knew that he must take that fateful step forward or risk losing her.

"That…that damned stallion," he said brokenly. "War Cloud is all Mom has left of my father…but she just won't let him go!"

Jenny opened her mouth, but some feminine instinct made her wait for him to continue.

Sam kicked at the dirt and watched it scatter. "Your Uncle Phineas—he knew why I'm messed up. Out at Dreamcatcher he tried to help me, tried to keep me out of trouble. I was just a boy then…one of _their_ boys, turned over to them by the court. Bet you didn't know that."

Her voice was little more than a whisper. "No, Sam…I didn't. No wonder ya seem so much at home there."

He nodded. Then sucking in a breath, he met her emerald eyes straight on. "It was because of my father. You see, he's not really dead, at all. He turned his back on us and ran off." His throat constricted painfully and he turned aside, struggling for control. _A Kirk didn't cry…not even a tear, not even in private. Oh no, that's not how heroes behave._ "I told you he was a ship's captain, and he was. Captain of a Federation starship. Captain Kirk. James _Tiberius_ Kirk."

Jenny gasped. " _The_ Captain Kirk—he's your Da? The one who returned to the Nexus? Where ya niver grow a day older?"

"Yes," Sam choked, "where all your dreams come true. I guess we weren't up to his standards. He shamed us in front of everyone, and I'd damn him to hell if I could!"

The sun glared down, burning the back of his neck. A slow breeze stirred dust in the paddock as War Cloud dozed in the heat, his hide twitching where flies landed. Tears streaming down his face, Sam stared at his father's horse. "It's just not fair, Jenny. How could he _do_ it?"

Jenny sighed. "I understand, now. Ya think of him when you see that horse…and when the stars are shinin' in the night. But look at me, darlin'."

Embarrassed, he wiped his tears on his sleeve, then turned.

Gently she said, "There are stars in my eyes, too…shinin' bright, full of love. And Sam…I'm tellin' ya one thing for sure. _I'll_ niver be leavin ya."

There was a stirring of warmth in Sam's heart, and like a bird flying out of the shadows, his spirits began to rise. How simple Jenny made everything seem. The past was behind them and nothing but their love mattered. Truly, they were made for one another.

In his relief, he gripped her slim shoulders and leaned toward her, all but breathless. "I don't suppose you'd ever marry a 'big city cop'."

Her eyes twinkled at him beneath dark lashes, and her cheeks dimpled. "And just who would you be havin' in mind, Sam?"

Dropping to one knee in the dirt, he grasped her hand. "Jenny Frances Flynn, will you marry me?"

She laughed. And flushed with happiness, she said, "I thought you'd niver get around to askin'…and me wantin' so badly to say 'yes'!"

Sam stood, and for a long while they just held one another close. Then their lips met in a joyous kiss that sealed the tender promise of their love.

oooOOooo


End file.
